


Sand and Sundown

by Awsaya



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: AU, Dirty Talk, F/M, First Time, Isolation Trope, NSFW, Oral Sex, Reylo - Freeform, Reylo Sin Anthology, Size Difference, Slight Language Barrier, Smut, and the emotional baggage, as in they're alone together, just them and the sexual tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 21:18:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8343157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awsaya/pseuds/Awsaya
Summary: Rey thought him dead, an unnamed warrior killed in battle. Then he grabbed her ankle. And she would grow very accustomed to having his hands on her from there on out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I wrote for the Reylo Sin Anthology. It’s technically an AU story, but purposely ambiguous.

Wind blurred the hare tracks into the terrain, forcing Rey to trudge faster. Her eyes watered in an attempt to flush the grit. Hot wind burned her cheeks, insistent but not strong enough to scrape away at the second skin of sweat and sand clinging to her arms. She would have to barter furs for more binding cloth soon.

Four rabbit carcasses dangled from her belt, enough to pay her way, but now she needed to hunt for food, preferably a week’s worth; her wrappings clung to her more loosely than they did last spring.

Each time she won two steps, the sand would only push her back one. Her adversary since childhood, the land kept shifting in unceasing cycles. It was a brutal but constant companion, not unlike the roving tendencies of her people.

 _Her people._ Rey ached deep at the thought. She hugged her bow tighter to her chest and spared a glance back towards camp. 

She had no people. The village that had barely tolerated her presence since age four could hardly be called her people. So it was easier to fool herself into believing that there was someone out there, someone to offer a sense of belonging she scarcely believed could exist. Only these thoughts of finding her family helped to distract her from the burn in her legs and the dryness in her mouth. But these days her daydreams seemed to work less and less.

Still, she fantasized that once she crested this next dune a brighter future would somehow confront her on the other side, that she would see the distant shadow of her family returning for her. She reached the top on wiry legs, let the sand run in rivers around her boots, and stared vapidly out at stretches of open desert.

Empty. And Rey knew her eyes mirrored the emptiness.

She turned on her heel and allowed the sand avalanche to carry her back from where she came. Her appetite had vanished and she could already hear Unkar Plutt bellowing from camp.

“Here,” Rey tossed her four kills at his feet.

Plutt looked her up and down, sparing no glance for the rabbits, “That’s it?”

“I’ve been hunting all evening. If I only caught four it’s because there were only four to be caught.”

He snorted, “You’ve certainly been here long enough know how this works; you pay your way, you stay. I’m decreasing your water ration.”

“You can’t,” her voice wavered, cracked like her lips. “Last week’s was barely enough.”

“We’ll be entering the grasslands soon. You’ll just have to be patient until then.”

Just as she turned to leave, he added, “The scouts reported a battle being fought just east of here. Go scavenge the battlefield. If you do well, maybe I’ll reconsider.”

Refusing to answer, Rey fled back to her refuge, her small tent isolated from the rest of the village. She was going to sleep, no matter what he threatened. She had no fight left in her today, but she was already considering the best time to sneak into the barrel stacks. It certainly would not be her first time stealing water.

.

.

.

Rey peeked out of her tent for what must have been the eleventh time that evening. 

In the distance, the camp looked empty, the torches finally extinguished. Many had stayed up later than usual, drinking as they gambled for ownership over the armor from the battle site.

This was what Rey had been waiting for; nevertheless, she found the silence unsettling. She hated nighttime. Sunset always meant recognizing that she truly was alone.

She darted from her tent and crept in a large semi-circle around the camp. She paused at the pyramid of water barrels to listen. There were no voices, but the whistling of the wind across the dunes called to her from the east. Rey’s eyes followed the sound; a full moon allowed her to see even beyond the sand. A darker ridge sat in the distance, rising up from the rest of the flat terrain. A spring of hope lightened the weight on her shoulders, and she took the opportunity to breathe in the crisp air.

For as long as Rey could remember, they had been too set in their ways to venture beyond the desert and dry grasslands. They never entered the trees. 

Strong warriors sometimes crept in those woods, they said, flooding down from the mountains in pursuit of prey or escaped prisoners. Sometimes, though, when the wind blew just right, Rey imagined she could smell the pine. And they were so beautiful on winter mornings, all blue-grey and ringed with mist.

She sighed wistfully and unscrewed her waterskin.

“Help me.”

She lost her grip and spun around, fist pulled back, allowing streams to spew from the spigot. She gaped at the hand gripping her ankle. A slumped form covered the ground at her feet—a man, as far as she could tell, and a large one. He grunted. From what Rey could gauge through the dark, he had black hair, but the fingers stroking uselessly atop her foot were deathly pale. 

And he was apparently too weak to move his head out from under the spray dousing his hair. 

Rey slammed the nozzle up, staunching the flow. Her eyes never left him; new things always mesmerized her, they were such rare sights. Armor layers fitted his body, a strange insignia on his back. At his hip the hilt of a sword reflected moonlight back up at her.

“Help you?” she whispered to the air. The cloud of her breath swirled around her head while she glanced back and forth between her water skin and the unconscious warrior. “I can’t afford to help anyone.” But even as she muttered the words, her hands were already slipping under his arms.

Over his hair she spotted the trail of blood-darkened sand stretching out into the night. She would have to return well before sunrise to cover it up. Unkar Plutt was keen on selling stray soldiers for labor and often held the higher-ranking ones for ransom. Any chance to undermine his authority was welcome. Rey laid him out on her furs with trembling hands and, after a moment’s hesitation, turned him onto his back. 

The hair on the back of her neck stood up. 

A young, narrow face looked sightlessly up at her; he was all pale angles and terribly scarred. If she had not been intrigued before, she certainly was now.

.

.

.

He regained consciousness in a haze. 

The air smelled of dust, earthy and rich like stale rain. There was scuffling above him. And harsh breathing.

“Your armor is ridiculous.” 

His brow furrowed. He should have known he was not alone. The voice was muffled, decidedly stern and feminine. It took a few beats for him to understand and he winced in half-assed offense. His armor was most definitely not ridiculous.

“If you're uncomfortable, it's because I couldn't figure out your arm guards,” the speaker shucked the covers down to his waist. “And you have a gaping hole in your side. Not as big as it was when I found you, though. You’ve been asleep for four days.”

Just barely he managed to open his eyes. Hazel irises and a stern mouth swirled in his vision before he closed them again. “F'l hot,” he slurred.

There was a harsh inhale, then he felt a hand closing over his forehead before losing consciousness again.

.

.

.

Rey listened carefully for the sound of voices. 

Night had come but at least she was not alone to face it; the warrior had been with her a week. It had been difficult, caring for someone else, yet oddly satisfying. She had stitched him up as well as she knew how. For a while she was afraid he would never wake up, but he had made it through the worst of the fever. His chest now rose and fell strongly and he was no longer sweating everything she poured down his throat.

Finally, the camp went quiet. Time to steal more water.

She was just about to reach for the flap of her tent when a hand snagged her ankle. Acting purely on instinct, Rey spun to the side with her free leg outstretched, but before she could make contact, the man fell back with an agonized groan. He clutched at his shoulder. Blood seeped between his fingers.

“Hey, you opened the cut in your shoulder,” both Rey’s voice and the harsh lines of her combat face softened. She reached for his wrist. “You’re hurt, remember? Stop touching—”

He slapped her hand. About to draw it to her chest, Rey regarded it with hesitation, not because it hurt, but because the warrior had gone and smeared it with his blood. With a huff, she dodged his feeble attempts to lash out again and held him down, “Open your eyes.”

When he refused Rey palmed his forehead. She slid his hair back—sweat, dirt, and all—until his head rested comfortably on the ground, “Open them.”

His eyes caught hers the moment he revealed them.

Rey, taken aback at seeing him lucid for the first time, mumbled, “You see? . . . You’re not a prisoner. Calm down.” 

Coughing wracked his frame and Rey rushed from his side, returning with a ceramic dish. She tried to hold it to his lips but he insisted on taking it from her. His hand wobbled, spilling some water. Irritation prickled the back of her neck; water was precious, and here he was, spilling it all over himself because he was too proud to let her help him. 

The water had gathered into the hollow of his collarbone. Each time he swallowed, the small pool quivered. Rey eyed his skin and the many freckles that peppered it. Only the sense that she was being watched pulled Rey back, and she found that her thoughts of prior disdain were now jumbled. 

Dark eyes gleamed at her over the rim of the dish. It seemed he had taken a break to breathe and, apparently, to scrutinize his captor. Rey knew that look. He sought answers yet fully expected to be deceived.

“I suppose you’re my guest, if that’s any consolation. I’ve never had a guest before.”

“Indeed?” he rasped and became startled at the gravel in his own voice. “But your home is so fine for welcoming guests.”

To his dismay she reeled back, prior expression of embarrassment turning to stone. He had been earnest in his compliment, but apparently she believed he was mocking her.

She was tiny. Fragile at his first glance, she appeared deer-like, but toned despite her slight build and ready to spring from him like a wild hare. But perhaps she was not so delicate; most people just seemed delicate to him.

“And who would you be, nomad,” he held the cup out to her with a nod of gratitude, “if not my captor?”

Rey furrowed her brow, head tilting to the side, “You know I’m a nomad?”

His shrewd eyes gestured to the dome of her tent. With a wince he managed to prop himself up on his elbow, “I am Kylo Ren. What are you called?”

“Rey,” she eyed him thoughtfully. The way he spoke . . . the structure of his wording was perfect, but almost too perfect, too rigid for a native speaker. And she had heard the name Kylo Ren; oral stories from other villages regaled the deeds of a prince who defected to another kingdom before returning prodigal to his mother’s land. Her eyes raked over him from head to toe. What would a wayward prince be doing crawling half-dead from a slaughter? Why was he not more distressed?

Kylo’s eyebrows had risen humorously and he did his best to lean closer. It was like he was studying her too, “Rey? We too have such a name in my language. Where are your parents from?”

She shrugged, eyeing him sideways. It was uncomfortable when people asked her so many questions. Typically, it meant they were after something.

Kylo seemed to recognize her discomfort, for he turned the conversation on himself instead. Aside from his arm guards, he was naked beneath the blanket, “My armor . . .”

Much to her surprise, Rey found a small smile tugging at her lips. He spoke so strangely and she felt her posture softening despite his questioning. Or perhaps it was normal to ask such things and not invasive after all; Rey knew little of idle conversation—diversions and negotiations, maybe, but not this. 

Trying her best not to stare, she gestured to his chest, “I, um, couldn’t figure out the clasps, so I just kept those on.”

“Ah. Where’s the rest of it?”

She pointed to a heap of furs in the corner, “Under there. And your helmet—I found that too.”

“Why hide them then?”

“No one else knows you’re here. They thought everyone in your battle was killed.”

“And is that true?” Finally. A glimmer of remorse. Almost of confusion.

The crease between his brows deepened. His eyes had fallen to his lap and he seemed to be sifting back through his memories, waves of tensing muscles and rapid blinking washing over him. His lips quivered. 

Rey frowned. He was difficult to figure out. Unassuming, kind, but jaded in a way that made him a lovely creature of contrasts. He was large in form yet graceful, calm but barely so—it was as if he was sewn loosely around the edges, the deep within barely contained.

Despite her earlier suspicions, Rey was captivated. He resembled her, and yet she had never known anyone like him. Excitement brewed within her and yet, watching him slip his clothing on piece by piece, she wished she had never stumbled upon him.

“I don't have enough water for the both of us. I’m going to have to steal some.”

“Ah . . . I take it your people wouldn’t be too kind upon finding me here?”

She shook her head.

“Well, then, I’m sorry my presence here has forced you into a life of crime.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” glaring over her shoulder, Rey walked to a makeshift chest and pried it open. The rickety lid snapped off in her hand and she tossed it aside. Dust spewed up around her but she appeared unbothered. When she turned, she was holding a dagger out to him.

Kylo tensed. The tightening of wiry arms braced against the crate had showcased years of lifting and climbing. Rey had a build of hidden strength and a survivor’s mind. But she would have killed him in his sleep, had she desired it.

Still, he eyed the knife warily, “Would you like me to gut myself before they do?”

Rey gaped. Then, realizing he had told her another joke, she twitched a smile despite herself, “Charming. This will serve you better than your crusty sword—it’s just in case someone barges in before I come back.”

“And do they make a habit of that? ‘Barging in’?”

“Not if I can help it.” Once Rey’s guest took the knife, the sheer size of his hand struck her. Having him sitting up and talking to her was certainly different from watching him sleep, “I, um, I’ll be back. Soon. Bye.”

Kylo blinked. “Yes. . . . Goodbye.”

.

.

.

After Rey had gone, Kylo appraised the dagger up close. The silver hilt gleamed, inlaid with golden designs. Wherever it came from, it certainly had not been forged by a shoddy desert smith.

And the girl was a mystery all herself. Incredibly skittish, she made him second-guess his proficiency in her language and always wonder if he had unintentionally insulted her.

But even more than the fineness of the dagger, it was the insignia carved into the blade that caught Kylo’s eye; he had seen it somewhere before. 

When he asked her about it later, she merely shrugged and avoided his eyes, “My parents left it with me. They left everything in that trunk over there. Fabrics and things . . .”

“And where would they have gotten it?”

“I’ll ask them when they come back to get me.”

“. . . I see,” Kylo frowned. She was smiling. It was a strained smile, half-hearted but obviously practiced. The sight made him ache a bit. “I seem to recall seeing this symbol on a banner in one of my mother’s negotiation rooms.”

Rey frowned. Her cup had been halfway to her mouth, but she seemed to lose her thirst and set it down instead, “You must be mistaken.”

“No, I—”

“If they were from a nearby kingdom they would have . . . they would have returned for me by now. They must have picked up the dagger from somewhere else. Or _you_ just have a bad memory, warrior.”

Kylo sighed, “I could help you find them.” Her eyes perked up at that, “I truly would like to. You have been a great help to me, and I would be negligent if I failed to try.”

He was speaking strangely again, in that clinical way that put distance between them, talking to her as if she was a lost maiden, a means to fulfill all of his grave, princely duties. Patience withered, Rey kicked the water skin towards him, marched to her bed, and commenced pulling her tunic over her head.

Ears hot, Kylo spun away, “ _What_ are you doing?”

“I don’t know how you do it where you come from, _your highness_ , but we like to go to sleep when it’s dark.”

“Wha—I meant . . .”

Rey hid her smile beneath the blankets. It was freezing and she doubted Kylo knew just how cold it got in the desert at night. Much to her dismay, she saw his ears were red behind his hair and, even more to her dismay, found him pitiably adorable. No wonder he had been sporting such a ridiculous helmet.

Eventually Kylo tore his attention from the tent wall and glanced over his shoulder. He heaved a heavy sigh when he saw she was covered up and returned to bed. Still cautious, he drew one of the cotton blankets over his shoulders, all the while avoiding her scrutiny.

“You should take your clothes off too,” Rey did not expect him to whir his head around so hard that he almost lost his balance, eyes wide and half-scandalized. The blanket fell and he yanked it back over his chest, despite his still being fully clothed underneath. “It’s best to sleep naked. You’ll feel warmer.”

The logical cogs if Kylo’s mind slammed to the forefront, a defense mechanism to distract from his growing flush, “That . . . that makes no sense—less layers making you warmer. It's foolish.”

Rey huffed, “Sure. It's nonsense. That must be why we've been doing it this way for hundreds of years.” 

He shivered again, pursed his lips to keep from making noise.

But Rey’s ears were too keen to be fooled and his embarrassment made her smile, “I guess it seems more reasonable when there's two . . . more than one person, I mean. I’ve only ever slept alone, but it's still more comfortable sleeping this way.” She was drowsy, feeling safe in the ambient light despite having him behind her. 

Never would she have thought trust to be such a sleepy feeling.

Kylo examined her serene expression the same way he would a map or battle plans. She was in good spirits today. Some might take her disrobing suggestion as an invitation for more . . . dubious things. But there was no way he could misconstrue the kindness in her voice.

His silence must have worried her, for she mumbled, “That's why I suggested it. Your armor seems so uncomfortable, I just thought . . .” she trailed off so softly, burrowing deep into the bedding and yanking the furs up over her reddened ears, “It's up to you.”

Kylo tamed his grin. Rey was indeed a charming girl, for all her brusque manners and bravado. Giving in, he awkwardly disrobed and slipped beneath the covers with her, leaving an arm’s span between them. 

With a pleased sigh, Kylo Ren realized she was right. Though odd at first, the fur was soft and warm against his skin and, after a while, he could even feel her own warmth reaching him from beneath the blankets. All shivering ceased. His eyelids drooped.

“Goodnight, Rey.”

Kylo Ren decided he wanted to become acquainted with everything about her, to commit her to memory. But part of him was also afraid. Afraid to find that he understood her too easily. That their fears dwelled together in that same vein that made them skittish yet at ease around each other. She was a mirror, the revealer of his hidden self.

.

.

. 

On the tenth daybreak, Rey was one more comment away from kicking him out, opened stitches be damned. He was always in her way, rearranging furs, polishing pots, and sharpening her knives when she “preferred her old tools perfectly crusty just the way they were, _good prince_.”

To Kylo’s credit, it was not his fault he was built like he was and that both Rey and her tent were so small in comparison. But it was difficult not to snap at him when he opened the tent flap too wide in the middle of the night when he went to relieve himself and let in the entire desert’s chill.

But by their twenty-fifth sunrise together, she supposed he had his merits too.

Firstly, the man was a mystery. She liked to imagine things about him, the way she always dreamed about faraway lands and cultures when she was a little girl. She wondered if all people looked like him where he came from or if he was an anomaly. Rey selfishly preferred the latter, for it would mean that they were anomalies in their respective lands together.

Once she attempted to avail him with such fantasies and he had listened with his usual attentiveness until, after some trivial comment, those dark eyes had turned to steel. He retreated somewhere into himself and had not spoken a word for the rest of that evening.

No more of that. She found she liked the sound of his voice too much.

It was soothing—a deep voice, like that of many men, but not hard and cold. The pure brunt of it had frightened her during their first weeks together, the sound alone filled with more pleasant emotion than anyone had ever shared with her before.

Yet it was engaging when she needed it, speaking to her like it mattered what she thought, like he was awaiting her response even before he stopped talking.

And it was lulling when she needed that too. Rey had come to associate his voice with firelight, with the soft stories he would tell as they curled up beneath the blankets.

Then, on top of the rest, he was distracting. Irritatingly so, for the scavenger could not quite decide why. It was difficult to keep from gawking whenever she found him in close proximity which was most of the time. He seemed so exotic, pale but with such dark hair, and she had never seen someone with so many birthmarks. 

He never deigned to answer questions about his home. But, unlike her, he was civil in his refusal and displayed a diplomat's gift for misdirection. She gathered only that his mother was of royal station in an empire far from any of her travels; questions about his father, however, he promptly shut down with no regard for her feelings. Up until then, that was the only time he was ever truly upset with her, but his mood did not linger. Even when she set about prodding his ego with haughty accusations of hypocrisy, he merely quirked a fine brow. His gaze would always retreat oh-so-coyly to the side, like he was hiding his thoughts from her, like he was amused at her expense.

He was driving her mad.

.

.

.

“Are you awake?” Rey found her voice muffled and opened her eyes to discover that, yes, Kylo Ren was also awake with his chest beneath her cheek and his eyes glued to the canopy. She appeared to have sidled up to him in the night. Unashamed—rather, more upset that he seemed so uncomfortable—she moved towards the fire. “Sorry.”

He rolled over onto his good side, facing her. The weight of the furs was a welcome mercy, for he had awoken hard between his legs. 

Unwilling to meet her eyes, especially when she held only a blanket over her chest, he focused on the potted plant she was tending. A small green sprout perched atop the soil, one gardening attempt of many since she had turned eleven. She had told him that she had only seen grass up close, that she yearned to see mountains and forests.

With a sigh, she placed the pot back in its corner. “You’re healing well.”

He nodded, “Thanks to you.”

“A few more weeks, then. We should try finding you a horse.”

Kylo blinked. Now that the fog had disappeared from his mind, he thought about when he would have to leave, where he would go. Where would _she_ go? She had such a bleak existence. He mulled over the idea of visiting her, though he knew nothing of their migration patterns. He searched her face for any sign that she would want such a thing, to see him again. But her expressions were carefully neutral, gaze drowning in the fire. Her arm relaxed, caused the blanket to descend and expose the tops of her breasts.

Kylo’s eyes fled askance to her sickly plant.

“I’ll show you what it's like. When I’m better, I'll take you to see such places,” he cleared his throat, “if you'd like.” 

At first Rey's face lit up, but then the shadows seemed to grow around her as she slouched. She pulled her blanket around her shoulders, “I've dreamed of seeing those things, but I can't. I can't leave here. Even if my family doesn’t . . . doesn’t come—I’ve never known anything else.”

“Then how do you know you won’t like it?”

“If everything is so great out there, why are you staying here, then? With me?” Her glare seared into him. 

“I . . . I’ve made mistakes. I don’t want to see you do the same.”

Rey’s frown deepened. She liked his voice. She hated when he used it to lie to her.

.

.

.

The thirty-second sun.

The wind howled, passing over the tent’s dome like a phantom.

And Rey’s warrior was meditating in the corner. Rather than frighten him like it did her, the droning outside seemed to add to his peace. Soft breaths barely disturbed the waves hanging over his brow. 

At first Rey thought of snarky comments on how unproductive he was being; eventually, however, curiosity quashed practicality. He had obviously risen when the storm began so he could extinguish the fire and draw the skins over the smoke hole in the canopy. 

He learned so quickly; Rey could only recall him having seen her demonstrate it once. She appraised him, eyes still heavy with sleep. 

Kylo had disrobed to his waist despite the cold and now she understood why. She winced as another bead of sweat fell from the pool in his collarbone and dribbled across the tender scar tissue. She waited for a grimace, yet he remained still. She would have to ask him to show her how to achieve this form that apparently fended off the cold so well. He had promised to show her so many things already. What was one more addition to their list?

Rey licked her lips, yanked the covers around her shoulders despite how hot she already felt.

His body was imposing, always so warm. She wished to drape herself in him, like she did her best furs on nights when the air was coldest. But he seemed unattainable somehow—he was above her without realizing it, had lived a life she could only ever dream of. And yet he implored every morning for her to believe him, to leave with him.

But what if she did leave? What if her family finally returned only to find her gone? She would lose her chance forever. What if Kylo realized he was wrong, that she was not who he thought she was? Once he no longer found her fascinating, he would abandon her, far from the only people she had ever known. He would leave like everyone else, would he not?

No. Out of the question.

And yet every time he asked he tempted her, tempted her in ways he could not possibly have imagined. The fact that he bothered to ask at all was foreign, but it was not his words that tempted her, not those promises that she was born to a greater destiny than this pit of sinking sand her life had become; it was the mouth that delivered those pretty words, the passion in his eyes as he pleaded. 

This was what she thought of at night, hand smoothing down her stomach in hypnotic lines as she fought the beckoning of his warmth beside her. He made her feel empty. Empty in her chest. Empty between her legs. She should be used to it, but she recognized that this emptiness, more than most, yearned to be filled.

There was no way he could guess at the torrid longing behind her torn features. 

But it was just easier, all in all, to think of him rather than his words. This palpable heat between them, she could trust. His promises? Never. She was no one. A nobody.

It did warm her to know that he was concerned for her, but she wanted him to want her in a way that had nothing to do with her background, whether she was a desert rat or truly descended from great people. Even if he could only desire her physically, even if he left as soon as he was able to travel . . .

For now, perhaps sating this longing in her core might be enough.

.

.

.

“I want you to touch me.”

Kylo’s sword clanged to the ground, half it’s length falling into the embers of their cooking fire. Cursing in his native tongue, he yanked it out and shoved his burning fingertips past his lips. By the time he garnered the courage to face Rey, however, he knew he had heard correctly. “Excuse me?” When she only kept staring expectantly, he flushed and repeated himself, this time in her dialect.

“Touch me . . . please,” Rey’s voice was tremulous but impatient. This was a huge mistake. Of course he, heroic royalty from an established kingdom, would not find her suitable for his hands. There was no way he could want to touch her; otherwise, he would not be dividing his attention between the fire and her many trinkets, licking his lips as he fumbled for an answer. 

She muttered, “Forget it.”

.

.

.

Days later, just as he always did, he asked the question.

“Will you join me when I leave?”

A heavy silence descended. Giving no answer, Rey instead asked her own question, “Why won’t you touch me? It wouldn’t bother me if you just said you _won’t_ or that you don’t want to . . . but all you say is—”

“I _can’t_. Rey, I’ve already explained—”

“No. All you care about is taking me back to satisfy some sick obligation, and if that’s all I am, then it shouldn’t be difficult to fuck me and leave it at that,” Kylo cringed hearing those words come from her mouth, but she kept going, “I’m just a means to an end, right? That _is_ how you see me, isn’t it? You might as well. But all you’ve done is make it perfectly clear that touching me would ruin your reputation.”

“ _Reputation_?” he spat. “You don’t get it. There is no reputation.”

The fire crackled with violent fury between them. Rey had never heard him raise his voice like that before. Sensing her alarm, he reached out over the flames, but his hand fell short.

“Look,” with a sigh he sat down. “I need to do this right. I need to bring you home.”

“No, you need me to ease your guilt.”

“Look, scavenger, you don’t know anything about my guilt.”

She instantly hated the glare on his face. It almost made his facial scar ugly, angry and red from the spike in his blood pressure. The tent was suddenly too small, and Kylo was promptly ignored for the rest of the night. Guilt and curiosity was already a bad combination, but two stubborn people made for an even worse one.

Hours later they were both situated on their backs beneath separate blankets, glaring at stars visible through the smoke hole. In its pit the fire had long died into embers.

It was Kylo who ventured first.

“I’m sorry.”

Rey flopped her head to the side. She fidgeted, eyelashes downcast. “Me too,” she crossed the spaced between them in a second and settled down beside him.

“Thank goodness,” Kylo sighed. “I was getting cold.”

Rey reached beneath his blanket and punched him in the arm. His laughter suddenly made the tent more ambient, regardless of the absent firelight. Several minutes later his breathing had already deepened. 

 _No wonder._ Rey now let herself stare without shame. After punching him her hand had fallen next to his arm and stayed beneath the blankets. And he was warm. Unbelievably warm. Even when Rey had slept next to her horse on a hunt she had not felt this kind of heat. Perhaps it was all that meditating he did. Maybe people needed to generate more heat where he came from. Maybe it was because he was a mountainside of a man.

These questions still swirling in her mind, Rey lifted the corner of his blanket and slipped inside. 

She had to stifle a moan. It was as if she had just wrapped herself in a new skin after letting it dry out in the sun all day. The fact that she could trust this man enough to get this close was warming in itself.

And, oh, she was all too aware that they were both naked, and made sure to snuggle just close enough that they would not touch.

For all his function as a furnace, however, Kylo was still unused to the desert winds and, upon sensing a new heat source inside his blanket, closed the distance between them.

Rey froze. She had squeezed her eyes shut and when she opened them, he was looking right at her.

“Rey? What’s the matter?”

Her nerves caused her to lick her lips and she did not miss the way his eyes followed. 

She rasped, “Cold.”

His face was so open, more vulnerable than she had seen since his injury-induced delirium. 

In the next breath they had moved in closer, but their lips were already gliding together by the time they realized. Once the initial contact was made, Rey sought his tongue, fingers diving into the hair at his nape and hooking her leg over his hip. Kylo groaned. He could feel her there, her pussy lips wet against his stomach. He shuddered.

When he pulled away, his hands were shaking. He panted against her throat as he avoided her gaze. He was wide awake now, awash in self-loathing. “I’m sorry.”

Rey’s stomach roiled. What on earth was he apologizing for?

But before she could retort, he took her hand. He squeezed once before closing his eyes. Rey watched until the rise and fall of his chest evened out.

Suddenly she found herself quite self-conscious at the contrast between them. It was nothing new, though, a lingering effect of her abandonment.

She was tanned, unevenly so, whereas he remained pale due to town life and his extensive armor, sporting musculature that his body had never been forced to plunder for energy.

Rey glanced down at their clasped hands.

Like hers, Kylo's hand bore scars. He too had rough, beaten hands, for though he was royalty, he was also used to combat. He even had calluses where she had never gotten them. It was a hard, unforgiving ridge spanning across his knuckles; he had mentioned bare-handed fighting arts and promised to show her what he had learned.

Despite these similarities, however, the girl despaired. She knew her surroundings had hardened her, but she imagined that women where he came from—aristocratic, royal women—were beautiful. They probably had soft hands; everything about them was probably soft. But Rey was not naive. Mirrors were scarce, but she had seen enough to know that she was not soft in the way men like Kylo Ren were surely accustomed to. Worry had long creased her brow and malnourishment made her thin.

And his hand dwarfed hers. She had asked him once over a meal whether all men where he came from were large as he. All too easily she recalled the burn on her cheeks when he laughed, one of the first hearty laughs she had heard in a long, long time. Seeing her embarrassment, he too had become flustered, pushing tufts of hair from his face and attempting to hide the length of his legs by folding them under. Had he been more lanky in build, perhaps this would have worked, but the sheer mass of his thighs had prevented it.

When the thoughts became too much, Rey let go of his hand and turned in the other direction.

.

.

.

On their fortieth sunrise it was especially cold. Not for the first time, Rey found Kylo perched on the sand behind her tent and, rather than scold him for parading his presence around outside, she froze with the tent flap in her hand. 

He had his back to her, facing towards the light barely breaching the mountains in the distance. Rey started to call out but chose not to. His shoulders were slumped, head bowed beneath some kind of gravity she could not feel. It was strange, seeing him like this.

And if Rey was honest with herself, her ire was due, not to his carelessness when venturing outside, but to the fear that paralyzed her upon waking and finding herself alone, scared out of her mind that he had gone against all promise and left without telling her.

She was loath to disturb him and left to catch their dinner. 

When she returned she nearly tripped over his legs. He was already curled up by the fire, probably sleeping through one of his weak spells. The recovery had been difficult, though he still seemed to be healing well.

The sight was so cozy that after stowing her kills away, Rey slipped beneath the covers and pressed herself against his back. He was like a wall radiating heat.

“Rey?”

“Sorry,” she murmured and swept his hair aside so she could press a kiss to the back of his neck. 

He moaned and turned to face her. In his drowsiness, it was easy to tuck her neck into the crook of his elbow and tilt her head back for a kiss. His hands moved through her hair. 

Moaning at his tenderness, Rey cradled his cheek, tracing her thumb along his scar, “ _Ah._ ”

Kylo reveled in her gasp. He continued his kisses down her neck. His tongue darted out to caress a birthmark on her collarbone, tracing up to her shoulder and stopping to nibble there. Curious, Rey leaned up, nipped at his earlobe, and was nearly startled by the heavy groan that followed. 

The shock made him realize that he was naked and hardening against her, and he pulled away, mumbling apologies and making space between them. Both embarrassed and frustrated, Rey turned on her side.

Her lungs caught mid-exhale. His hand flexed and released on her hip, making her shiver, and when she arched her back she met his chest. She could feel the heat of his naked sex so close to her skin, and dared not move.

Eventually Kylo broke the silence with another of his stories. Neither of them cared for food, so when he finished they just lay there in the comfort of each other’s breathing.

“What does Kylo Ren mean?”

“Not much. It’s my title.” 

“I've heard of your squadron from ‘Ren.’ What does _Kylo_ mean? It’s not your birth name, is it?”

“Well, no. Is ‘Rey’ your birth name?”

In that casual manner that so disturbed him, she shrugged, “Do you, um, have a harem?”

“. . . A what?”

“A harem,” after she clarified, allowing them to reach the equivalent term in his own language, Kylo snorted.

"What?"

“Just because I'm a prince by title . . . is that what you think royal lines are like?”

“Aren't they? Like in stories?”

Kylo would have to remember to ask who exactly was telling her these stories. He sighed almost sadly, but the smile gracing his lips spoke of fond sentimentality, a nostalgia she rarely saw him display, if ever, “My mother would kill me if I even suggested something like that.”

“So, you're not interested in such things?”

Redness crawled up his neck. Had she not felt him, pulsing against her? He traced her features, wondering at her curiosity, “Physical commitments, all commitments . . . I don't take them lightly.”

“Are they always commitments?”

“They should be.”

“There's no such thing,” the words tumbled out so quickly that Rey was stunned by the bitterness in her own voice. “I . . . in my experience, everything is conditional. And people don't keep their promises. So . . . commitments, even family commitments, those don't matter.”

“What has happened to you?” he placed a heavy hand against her cheek, spanning the entire side of her head from wrist to fingertip.

“Fifteen years,” tears welled up and her eyes closed to trap them. “You don’t even know me and you’re more interested in who I am than anyone I’ve ever met. I don’t know much, but I know that’s not how it’s . . . how it’s supposed to—why won’t you _touch_ me?”

“I'm not permitted to touch you.”

“Why? _I_ give you permission.”

At that, Kylo chuckled. It was a beautiful sound, rich, and deep, making Rey smile so much that the tears escaped anyway.

“Don’t you want to? Not at all?” she whispered. Her hands tightened to fists as she searched his face. This was the first time they had been able to speak amicably about any of this.

He frowned again. When he spoke, it was almost to himself, “I should be able to escort you safely back to your rightful home. Bedding you isn’t exactly part of that equation.”

“How noble of you.”

“Some would say so,” he grinned at her surprise, but sobered after only a few beats of thought. “Rey, if your family is who I think they are, any news of you associating so . . . so intimately with someone like me would make assimilating back very difficult for you.”

“Someone like you?”

“Yes. Someone like me.”

Rey held her breath, waiting for him to clarify this “someone like me” curse, but none came. She was used to it by now, but why was she still so disappointed every time he withdrew into himself? Often guilty of the same, she wanted to show his kind of patience, so she tried her best to understand. All these years she had looked to her past for answers, for hope. Kylo ran from his.

.

.

.

Upon the fiftieth sunrise, Kylo Ren awoke to the whine of twisting fabric and an unsettling pressure around his wrists. 

He snapped his eyes open to find his biceps hoisted up around his ears, “What the—”

“Don’t struggle,” with a grunt Rey tightened the final knot securing Kylo’s wrists to the center pole. “If you pull it out of the ground my home is going to fall right on top of us and I’m not going to be very happy.”

“You mean you’re happy right now? What will you do to me when I upset you?”

Rey glared, “Someone’s been snooping. While you were snoring I thought of an idea.”

“Oh?”

He looked so damned smug and drowsy and sassy and she wanted to slam his head into the ground with her mouth. No one should be this calm upon waking up restrained. Part of her hoped he would come to thrashing, cursing her with that strange tongue of his. Anything but this serene expression watching her through the tangles of his hair.

She wished that he would not trust her so much. She had done nothing to earn such confidence, and she loathed the idea of trusting him so completely in return.

“—Rey?”

“What?” she snapped.

He looked at her like she was losing her mind, and perhaps she was, “What’s this great plan of yours? They’re coming for me, right?”

Before Rey could answer, the tent flap was swept aside and Unkar Plutt stuck his head in, “So, it’s true. You were not authorized to take any prisoners.”

“No, but I—”

“I sent you to scavenge the battle site for weapons and armor, not someone to warm your bed.”

“Yes, I know—”

“Did you even bother to look at the emblem on the war banners, girl? If Princess Leia thinks we have one of her soldiers hostage, she’ll think the attack was our doing. We’ll be done for. _Get rid of him._ ”

Behind her, Kylo tensed at the mention of the princess; her mind connected the pieces and, remembering her distress whenever she thought of her own family, she placed a soothing hand on his chest, “I won’t.”

The vessels in Plutt’s neck bulged. Rey watched him practically masticate on her refusal, teeth grinding and eyes digging into the sight before him.

If there was to be any buying Unkar Plutt’s silence, she would have to bargain; that was all his mind understood.

“Fine, but not yet. Give me until the spring transition,” to prove her point and partially irritate Plutt, Rey glanced over her shoulder and stroked her hand down to Kylo’s abdomen. Judging by the shifting of Kylo’s eyes, she could tell he was having a difficult time following Plutt’s words due to the thickness of his accent. Worry had since creased his easy expression, but it remained curious and playful. He looked entertained. “I’ll be tired of him by then.”

“Out of the question. I’m not sacrificing my ass just so you can spend more time with your toy. Three more days.”

Rey’s fingers encircled Kylo’s belly button, followed the line of fine hair down to the edge of the lone fur blanket preserving his dignity. “Four weeks, then,” she had completely turned her back on Plutt, settling all her attention on her distressed “captive.” She knew this could only enrage Plutt further; he had been vying to gain her attention for years. The gleam in Kylo’s eyes made her both proud and insecure. Was she offending his excellency’s noble sensibilities?

“One week.”

“No. Three weeks.”

“ _One_.”

“No,” Rey shook her head. “Three weeks. If you won’t give me time, I won’t hunt.”

Plutt’s face had grown more and more discolored. His blood vessels were bulging again, and Rey knew he was weighing her offer on that mental scale of his. Should her threat come to fruition, the sudden lapse on food supply could incite a riot, and where would that leave him? Thankfully he had no idea that Kylo was both a prince and a general. Rey knew he would have either dragged Kylo back to the battlefield and murder him there or try to enact a ransom.

With a grunt and a snort, Unkar Plutt yielded, “Three weeks. If the vultures aren’t feasting on his innards by then, I’ll kill him myself.”

.

.

.

Rey frowned at the tent flap long after Plutt disappeared.

When she turned around, she found that Kylo had already worked one arm free of his binds. The entire tent creaked, raining dust down as Rey lunged forward, “Wait!”

All she saw were Kylo’s eyes widening when she threw herself on top of him, grabbing at his bound arm before he could yank on it again. She had reached him just in time before he could dislodge the pole.

“Idiot,” she hissed. When Rey finally did see the look on Kylo’s face, she grew worried that she miscalculated and hurt his side in the process of tackling him. “Kylo? Kylo, what's the matter?”

The man shook his head, unable to meet her eyes. He was careful when he freed his wrist this time, “Don’t worry. Let me up.”

When he sat up Rey saw goosebumps raised all over his skin, “I’m sorry about that—earlier, I mean, with the touching.”

“Not at all. You’re a convincing liar, scavenger.”

It was a bad sign when he did not use her name, usually meant that she had made him uncomfortable. She was still straddling him, closer than she thought. Her lips parted as her chest rose and fell in deep, irregular breaths. Kylo swallowed. His face mirrored her own, eyes drooping as his pupils dilated.

Fingers outlined his shoulders, a whisper away; when he made no objection, they tightened, and Rey pushed him back down on the bedding. Her hips angled closer to his as she followed and he grabbed them, rope still dangling from one wrist.

Kylo craned his head up and met her mouth halfway. She swallowed the rasp of her name, fingers twining into his hair, alternating between pulling and massaging his scalp. 

It came so naturally, nestling the cradle of her hips over his and grinding down. It felt so good despite the layers between them. Mouth open, Rey threw her head back and continued the slow grind. Their moans were beginning to merge together in her mind.

But it was not enough. Even when she increased her pace it was not enough. Kylo was shuddering. The struggling heat in his eyes spurred Rey to tug at his waistband. When she met no resistance she slipped his pants down. He was barely able to kick his undergarments off his ankles before Rey stooped herself at his waist, watching with starved curiosity as her fingertips grazed his cock. Kylo bit his lip. No longer having the strength to hold his head up, he let it fall back. He was both cold and embarrassed, guilty but reveling at every point of contact.

Every stroke she gave was experimental, each one less hindered.

Rey took one look at him, spread out so sweetly beneath her, and whimpered.

He was not nearly as restrained as she thought he would be. He moaned readily, surrendering to each wave of pleasure rather than resisting. He let it smother him until she had rendered him a mess panting through lips swollen and red. His flush had spread from his face and well across his chest so that he appeared stricken with fever.

He seemed to be savoring each new experience. 

His voice was so hoarse and strained that she barely heard him, "I'm so hard, Rey."

"I know," she appraised the length in her hand, swept her thumb over the tip. His flush had spread there too. Or perhaps it originated there, "Kylo . . ."

She had wanted this so badly. So much so that she could feel herself quivering. Every part of her had ached to touch him this way, to be able to unhinge someone like him and have him desire her back, but now that she had him like this, expectant and needy, now that she could see just how much he trusted her . . .

She was frightened out of her mind.

Nevertheless, she followed her instincts, tightening her fist around him and stroking. She stopped to lick over her hand. When she continued pumping his hips shot up, sensitivity more acute, and Rey heard a choking gasp. For a moment she thought to coat her palm with more spit, but something made her abandon that altogether and close her mouth over him instead, always practical and eager to show him what he had been denying them all these weeks.

.

.

.

Surely they had already missed dinner.

The furs were left an unrecognizable heap around the fire. Rey’s wooden chest lay overturned in the corner, the result of Kylo sitting her upon it so he could shove his face between her legs. She had pushed him over after he refused to let her come, bringing the chest with her and spilling all of its contents.

There had been no penetration, but there was no shortage of ways in which they pleasured one another. Too tired to continue, they collapsed where they were. 

Kylo had found a bolt of silk among her belongings and was currently using it to tease her.

“You’ve always had this?” he dragged the silk over her skin, humming deep in his chest as the purple stream glided over breast and nipple before spilling across the taut rise of her stomach. 

Rey nodded. “Ye—” her breath hitched, eyes snapping open as the cool fabric slipped down between her legs. She arched her breasts up, eyes rolling back into her head and toes flexing, “yes. I remember because Unkar Plutt was always trying to make me sell it.”

Kylo finally withdrew the fabric, only to press it to his nose and inhale. He stretched out beside her, hid his sad smile behind its silk folds, “If this is an export from wherever your family is from, that would narrow down our search quite a bit, would it not?”

Silence fell between them. No longer attempting to seduce him, Rey turned her back to him. 

Kylo needed no words to guess the source of her distress, “I understand. You’re afraid to leave.” He ran his knuckles down her side and tucked his face against her neck.

Rey nuzzled back into the warmth. She reveled in the way it made him hiss; his hardness against her back no longer surprised her. “Maybe. And you’re afraid to be close with me.”

“We _have_ talked about this, scavenger, and we have been very, very close. Unless being stuck in this tent has polluted my memory.”

“Yes, and your excuse-making is exhausting. . . . Taking me home isn’t a substitute for going home yourself.”

He sighed, eyelashes fluttering as her hair parted around his nose, “It seems we’re at an impasse.”

“A what?”

“ _Impasse,_ ” he muttered, unable to think of a dialect equivalent she would understand, “we cannot reach an agreement. As much as I enjoy stowing myself away with you, your Mr. Plutt is going to end me if I don’t leave soon. If you come with me, I promise to help you find your family.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“You misunderstand. I can’t guarantee we will find them. As you said, it’s been fifteen years, but I do promise to try.”

She fiddled with the edge of the silk, still unable to look him in the eyes, “And you?”

He remained quiet for a long time, staring over her shoulder and into the fire. When he spoke, Rey could only describe his voice as, not sad, but an unsteady acceptance of tragedy, “I don’t know why your family would abandon you.” He licked his lips to still their quivering. “Your hardships are not because of your own mistakes. But mine . . .”

He said nothing else and Rey sighed in defeat, “Goodnight, Kylo.”

.

.

.

“—and I don’t need your help in the first place! If they catch you snooping around they’re going to kill you on the spot. Why do you always have to try and _help_?”

They were fighting. Fighting about something entirely stupid.

Exhausted from their dalliance, Rey had slept in and did not go hunting when she normally would. Kylo, despite waking up earlier and chipper, had let her sleep, taking it upon himself to hunt with her bow and leave his kills in front of Unkar Plutt’s tent before anyone in the village woke up.

Rather than a thankful woman, Kylo had returned to find an indignant one. Though he knew she had just been afraid of him being caught, his own temper had bristled.

“Give. Me. My. Bow.”

“What? Why won’t you listen? You think I was going to steal it?”

“You didn’t ask.”

He grit his teeth and seethed through them, “I apologize. I did not want to disturb you.”

“Is this another one of your noble favors? If I don’t wake up, I don’t eat! That’s how we live out here,” Rey held her hand out. “Now return my bow.”

It remained at Kylo’s side. “I broke it. I need to fix it first.”

“You _broke_ it?”

“I pulled too hard and the string snapped. But I know how to—Rey!”

She lunged at him. Her momentum nearly knocked him over, but he dodged before she could grab his arm and held the bow above his head. In the struggle she accidentally hit his wound and he doubled over with a hiss. The bow fell to the ground, forgotten.

Rey froze. She rushed to his side. “Kylo! Kylo, are you hurt?”

He smirked and seized her waist. Realizing she had been tricked, Rey lashed out but found herself promptly pinned to the skins that were once at her feet. She tried to push and wrestle Kylo onto his back, but he was so heavy. He laughed, spurring her pride on as she attempted to bite his ear in retaliation, but he caught her jaw before she could. His thumb slipped over her lips and she drew it into her mouth, fully intending to bite down. 

It happened so quickly. Kylo’s eyes shut as he tensed for the coming pain. However, Rey was overcome by the urge to suckle and she closed her lips over the thumb, swirling her tongue around. A deep, guttural groan shook Kylo’s body and his body relaxed onto her as, all at once, the atmosphere in the tent completely changed.

“You want to suck on something?” he panted, his wry grin making Rey quiver. He drew his thumb out, gliding saliva over her lip as he went. “You need to suck on something, Rey? Is that it?” 

His hand slipped into her pants. He groaned when he found her already wet and tugged her tunic to the side. She had yet to fasten it, had not even put on her bindings, so it was easy for Kylo to find her nipple. Rey arched with a screech; she knew what his tongue felt like on her clit, but he had yet to put his fingers inside of her. The stretching was not uncomfortable for he went slowly, but this concept of depth, of someone actually being _inside_ was altogether new.

“Kylo,” she gasped, “Kylo . . .”

She bit her lip to smother a groan. Her head bowed back when he added another finger; she could not bear to look down and see his hand working between her thighs, to hear the wet sounds of her arousal as he drove his fingers home. They were so long, teasing and grazing muscles within her that had never been touched before. His thumb, still coated in her saliva, rubbed tight circles over her clit. Her toes clenched. Eyes squeezed shut as her mouth opened. The pleasure was searing there, almost sharp and unbearable but she needed him to keep going, “Kylo, I—”

“That’s it,” he had placed his cheek next to hers so she could feel every harsh breath just as he could hear her own, “let it come. You deserve it. _I feel like I’m worshipping a fucking queen._ ”

She had no idea what he was babbling on about; the last half had been in his language. But at this point it could not have mattered less. The tightness snapped. Her mouth fell open, letting out a silent scream, and she spasmed forward to grab onto his neck, just needed to anchor herself to something as her world fell apart. A drone like wind filled her ears and only when it faded did she realize that she was whimpering in her sensitivity. Kylo stopped.

Once she quieted down, he pulled his fingers out and held the hand up between them. Her essence streamed well past his fingers and chased his veins down his wrist. He slid them into her mouth and watched mesmerized while she suckled.

Eyes softening, he pressed a kiss to her cheek, so tender after what he had just done to her that Rey forgot to breath, “I’m very sorry, Rey.”

She gasped, “About what?”

“Not waking you up.”

“I don’t care about—I was just so frustrated. You wouldn’t talk to me last night.”

“I know. I’m sorry about that too.”

“Stop apologizing,” she grabbed his face and brought his lips down to hers.

.

.

.

Kylo and Rey lost track of the sunrise entirely.

“ _Ugh . . . ngh_.”

Hyper aware of the baritone dip in his voice, Rey felt wetness gather and relax her between her legs. She shut her eyes and took him deeper into her mouth; it grew more and more difficult not to rub her thighs together and ease the ache. But there was sick pleasure in denying herself, just as she had been denying him before he could crest his end. She had gone her whole life having to deny herself most things. But now, now she could deny herself with the wonderful knowledge that he would give her anything she asked eventually. She just had to be patient.

Kylo was shaking now. She placed her free hand on his thigh to steady him, but he continued to grind his heels into the furs. 

Rey glanced up. Perhaps he was trying to stave off the urge to buck his hips against her. He was so thoughtful. Too thoughtful. So thoughtful that his screwed brains were not enough to make him any less considerate.

So the mischievous side of Rey made her suck harder and she hummed, forcing a hoarse cry from above. His heels slid against the furs before slamming down with a pounding thud at the ground underneath. Around his sex, Rey smiled. If he dislodged any hair from her bedding, she was definitely going to make him clean it up—if only to see that mortification spread red to the tips of his ears.

“I’m close, Rey. . . . Let me cum this time, please—oh, _fuck!_ ”

Much to Kylo dismay, she ceased the vein-tracing she had been practicing with her tongue and released his length. Only her hand remained, teasing him with lazy, unsatisfying strokes, “What does that mean, Kylo?”

“Wha?” blinking slowly, he watched her lick his pre-cum from the corner of her mouth.

“That word. ‘ _Fuck’_.”

Oh. His lashes fluttered rapidly upon hearing her voice marry with his dialect, especially when combined with such a filthy word as that. Had he been speaking in his mother tongue? He had failed to notice he was speaking at all.

Stuttering, he did his best to translate. 

“Oh,” a shy grin, almost impish, overtook her, “That's good, then?”

“Yeah,” Kylo's tongue darted across his bottom lip. “Yeah.”

She glanced up with hungry eyes and lowered her mouth over him again.

Once he caught her gaze, Kylo dropped his head back with a hiss and severed the connection. What had he done? He had been so self-righteous about preserving her dignity and here he was, rocking his dick against the back of her throat and all but begging her to finish him off. Some noble protector he turned out to be.

Rey teased the tip of him, refusing to look away even though he would not to look back at her. His face was flushed, lips parted by panting and strained moans. He kept his head thrown back. It bowed deep into the bedding, until they could practically hear the whining grind of his hair against the fabric. Rey did not mind, for his shyness granted her a clear view of his throat and how his Adam's apple undulated with each swallow and gasp for air. She was soaked by now, one movement shy of making her center drip all over the precious furs.

“Fuckin’ hell, Rey—”

“ _Shh_ ,” she climbed on top of him and let her nipples graze his chest. 

“Wait . . .”

“Don’t worry,” she whimpered, “we won’t.”

She lowered her dripping cunt to the underside of his erection and slid up until he was pressed to his stomach _._

“You’re so wet.”

“ _Mmhhf_ ,” Rey bit her lip and ground her hips on his. Something in his words made more warmth gush between her legs. It stifled their friction momentarily, but still heightened each sensation, made it more acute until it ached, flirted to breach the barrier between pleasure and pain against her clit.

The underside of his length felt so good sliding across her slick labia. Their hipbones jarred unforgivingly each time, a casualty of the otherwise delicious grind.

Rey could hardly think over the noises she was making. Her pussy was clenching, longing to be filled by him, so she angled her ass up and put more direct contact on her clit. Kylo reached up and helped to drag her back and forth over his dick. His veins were bulging, redness darkening as his balls tightened.

He ejaculated all over his stomach. Watching the spurts of cum marring his skin, Rey increased her pace until she also came.

Her legs shook as she dismounted. Kylo’s eyes opened just as she bent down.

“What are you doing?” he repelled her with a hand to her forehead. 

Eyes narrowing at him, she flicked his hand away and returned to his abdomen. 

Rey barely managed to taste the essence on his skin when he pushed her back in a panic, "No, don’t. Stop it, Rey.”

She glowered at him. He had been so eager about everything else; what was his problem? Soon, however, she began to worry that she had indeed offended some custom where he was from.

“It’s—” he turned his face away, but his ears glowed a visible red through his hair, “it's dirty. I've allowed too much already, but this is too degrading for you’re—”

“I like it,” Rey declared. Her own cheeks grew hot, but she was tired of his self-deprecation. She wanted him to know and care about her, not some exalted lost child he was obliged to help. “It's a part of you only I know the taste of. Don’t you like the way that sounds?”

He snapped up to face her. Hair clung to the sheen of his neck, his pupils blown wide. He could not say no. She _knew_ he could not say no.

Rey licked her lips and Kylo traced the action with more care than it was due. Breathing hard, he inclined back onto the furs. Rey was already upon him, mirroring his movements like a feline until his shoulders hit the bedding. 

“Rey,” with a hiss, he closed his eyes, felt them roll back as Rey's breath drew closer. The sensation made him inhale too deeply, causing his stomach to collide with her waiting tongue. Wet warmth swept over his skin and he opened his eyes just in time to see her tongue, coated in his semen, retreat into her mouth. 

.

.

.

For the first time in her life Rey had grown to love each sunrise and sunset. Kylo was constant and exciting. Even when they were not making love, they talked or held each other until someone became aroused. For once, there was a routine she did not despise.

But she surmised that nighttime was probably her favorite. Kylo tended to be his most passionate and assertive then, while daylight depended on her to be the initiator.

If Rey missed anything about daytime, though, it was having the opportunity to hear him moan for her, to see him vulnerable, at her mercy, and spread out on the furs she herself had skinned. Sometimes she suited him into those peculiar arm guards and held onto the chest strap while she rode him raw.

What Rey craved the most about fucking Kylo Ren . . . what she loved was the sheer depth. That mere sensation of his penetration alone, the stretching and the jostling of her whole body that came with each thrust. He had her arching up and back with the ache, digging blunt nails into his ass in a crusade to pull him in deeper.

From the first moment he delved completely—from the first when she felt that collision against her cervix, that faint sting as her muscles adjusted, grasping, at his girth—from that first moment, Rey refused to settle for less. For less than that delicious depth he could give to her.

And, Kylo Ren being Kylo Ren, he would never let her hear the end of it.

Each and every moment she filed away in her memory, mulling over the details long after Kylo had fallen asleep. This night in particular was one for the archives.

“Hey.”

Rey frowned and pulled Kylo’s hair a bit harder than necessary.

He had been moody that night and was giving her the silent treatment. Even with his cock sliding up and down her pussy lips. 

Granted, it was all her fault. He had been mumbling something about how good and wet she felt, reverting eventually to incomprehensible moans and hissing. And she had thoughtlessly compared him to a desert snake she had once killed.

Though unused to apologizing, Rey hated seeing him brood. That and he was holding her down while refusing to increase his pace. She craned her neck up and cooed.

“I didn’t mean it Kylo.” Her lips grazed tenderly along his ear lobe. “The sounds you make are so sexy.”

“. . . Hmm.”

“I’m serious.” 

He stopped grinding. Steel fingers tightened on her thighs in response. “Beg me for it.”

“What?"

“This entire time I've been here,” he hissed against her ear, “this whole time I've had to hear about how much you want my dick, and now—” with a snarl he angled his hips up, timing the glide of his length against her clit with the wet stripe he was licking up her neck, making Rey croon and arch her back, mouth open and eyes rolled back, “and now you're going to tell me all about it. You're going to tell me exactly what you want. Understand?”

“Ye— _ah_. . . _yes_.” 

That made Kylo rumble low in his chest. It was almost like the purring Rey had heard from large feral cats, rattling her own form like an earthquake. His words burned, partly because they were filth, but mostly because they were true. Part of her had thought it had been easy for him to deny her, that he had hardly been tempted by her at all. She could never have comprehended how wrong she was.

“Well, do continue,” he released a puff of breath over her collarbone. Chills rose on her skin, where his own saliva remained wet. His hand descended between them to touch her little nub.

And he was so, so big. His body dwarfed hers in a way that always made her feel safe, even with the delicious slide of his manhood inside her core. She could feel his veins bulging against her clit every time he angled down.

“I . . . I love how big you are.”

“Oh, yes?” he purred. It was a nice, basic thing to say, he supposed, but Kylo believed anything from Rey’s lips to be worthy of reverence.

“Yes. All of you is so . . .” the muscles in her legs were contracting as she tensed with each thrust, the pleasure in her core mounting and mounting to a tightness almost painful, “I have dreams about how big . . . how tall you are and . . . Kylo, please! I feel so empty . . .”

His pace faltered for a second. He would have smiled had he not been focusing so much. She just managed to sound so innocent panting, flushed from her ears to her breasts. How could he ever deny her anything she wanted?

Her pussy dripped so well, so much so that there was little friction when he slipped his length in. He buried his face in her neck once he began thrusting harder, groaned at the vulgar slapping of skin that instantly filled the tent.

Rey twisted beneath him, hands grasping at anything they touched. At a particularly harsh thrust her fingers fell from Kylo’s shoulders and embedded themselves in the furs. She pulled hard and the hair came loose. 

Kylo noticed. He nipped her chin and pushed his forehead into hers, “Look at you. You were the one telling me to leave the bed alone, but look at you.” His large hands plucked hers from the skins and pinned them above her head so he could rear forward and thrust against her with more force. “— _Mmf_. Dirty. Little. Girl.”

She never expected his names for her to make her burn so hot. Her ankles linked around his waist, clinging to him as his hips pistoned up and down, urgency growing and growing as he snarled about how he was going to explode, going to “coat her pretty insides all over with his cum.” His words undid her and everything in the coil of her abdomen burst apart. Something strange happened to her vision but she would never remember. Kylo watched her face closely, slammed harder until he released his load with short, angry thrusts and let out his lungful of air so that it emerged a prolonged hiss through bared teeth.

Catching his breath, Kylo surveyed the sight beneath him. She was gorgeous. Strewn gasping on the furs she had cleaned with her own hands as a child. Her hair emphasized the feminine contours of her face when it was let own and wild like this. She had a square, strong jawline and the softest, most expressive eyes he had ever seen. Most of her exuded a beauty of freeness; it was a trait Kylo wished he could embody in himself.

She was consumed by it. She spoke so honestly, dreamed with a child’s wonder, and then made love to him with much-appreciated abandon.

.

.

.

As they usually did after several bouts of lovemaking, they lay idle and spoke of insignificant things. While they held each other amidst the chill and firelight, those words meant nothing, but the whispers between the words meant everything. Rey reveled in his voice. He was so soft-spoken when exhausted, speech slightly slurred and more natural.

“Do you have a castle?”

“No,” Kylo smiled against her shoulder, “. . . Well, kind of. My childhood home is hidden up in the mountains. Stone steps all the way up. There was always moss on them though; that's why my knees are so ugly." His eyes closed as if he was picturing it in his mind right then. Watching him, Rey even imagined she could feel the coolness, hear the wind and the birds. “I haven't been there in a very long time.”

“Moss?”

“Green plants. They grow all over things where it's damp. S’annoying."

“I think all green things are pretty. Especially trees. I like looking at the ones on the mountainside. But they're always so dark and grey from down here.”

“We'll stop there first then, so we can see them up close.”

“Kylo . . .”

He nuzzled her breast, his lips pouty and ticklish as they suckled her nipple. “Don’t ruin this. In the morning, alright?”

Rey wanted to pretend with him. She truly did. But she was never one for stowing her thoughts away. She whispered, “What if they were bad?”

“Who?”

"My parents."

Kylo sighed. Unsure at first about who she meant, something in his chest had ached in advance. Now he knew why. “ _You_ aren’t bad, Rey.”

“I am. You didn't want to be close with me so I made you feel guilty.”

Knowing there was nothing he could possibly say to ease her mind tonight, Kylo touched her face. She leaned into his palm, eyelids fluttering closed. “I did want to, Rey. And I was already guilty.”

Waiting for her response, Kylo watched her snuggle against his chest. He only received a drowsy mumble. 

“ _Mmm_. You’re scarred all over, but I don’t think your knees are ugly.”

Kylo chuckled and pulled her closer. He would follow her quickly to sleep, if only to wake up as soon as possible and pleasure her again. He did not know how many opportunities he had left.

.

.

.

The next morning following the hunt, Rey returned to their tent crestfallen, and Kylo knew what had happened.

Their three weeks were almost up. 

He would have to steal away in the morning.

Her cheeks were red from the cold, but she still somehow looked pale. Then Kylo noticed blood on her staff. 

He jumped up, nearly toppling their potted plant over, and rushed to turn her face from side to side, “What happened?”

“He cornered me—” 

“What happened? Are you hurt?”

“Um, no,” she quirked her brow at him and gestured her chin towards the staff, “I broke his nose and came home.”

 _Home._ Rey did her best not to look at him. He was being so wonderful, wiping the blood spatter off her cheek and looking so angry and concerned despite her explanation and she just . . .

Soon he would have to leave. He would be gone. The tent would be so empty, the furs so cold.

Kylo heaved a sigh, “We can’t avoid talking about this any longer, can we?”

The rest of the day passed in stale routine that ended with stealing water for Kylo’s journey and finishing their evening meal.

In a daze, Rey let him help her undress and tuck her into bed. After stoking the fire, he too disrobed and reclined on his elbow at her side.

”Whatever choice you make . . . if you have to stay, be it here or eventually with your family, you only need send word and I'll come find you," he ran his gaze down to her feet and back up before leaning close to nip her chin. Soothing the bite over with his tongue, he took in her face, grew alarmed when he saw the tears gathering. Her lips quivered and he quickly covered them with his, kissing to taste until he felt her smile.

"Because I saved your life?"

They were the kind of words that usually made him smirk, that kind of hard and practical attitude that would normally shatter any tension between them. But none of those things happened. His lips parted, the way they did when he was thinking deeply, and his eyes roved back and forth across her face, "Because I feel it too.”

Rey was unsure what to make of those words. Sometimes she wondered if something got lost in translation, but she did feel something too, a burgeoning affinity that had burned between them from the beginning. Unused to intimacy, she had mistaken it at first for that of an average relationship.

“Where will you go if you leave here alone?” Rey could not bring herself to say, _If I don’t go with you._

Kylo mulled her words over for a long time, though he must have thought of this many times. Finally, he shrugged, “I will find the people who ambushed my men.”

Something in his tone made Rey shiver. It was that mysterious side of him again, that edge that made her sex clench. “What’s the likelihood of you surviving?”

“Not good.”

Her temper flared at the way he stated it so casually. He had complained once that she spoke about grave matters in the same way. She was sorry for that, then. “You’re a fool.”

Kylo could tell she was burning. And she knew that he knew. It was obvious in the darkening of his eyes as his pupils blew open, by the large hand encircling her knee and gliding up to her center. He worked her up with his fingers, stroking the walls of her pussy with the same enthusiasm with which Rey had seen him polish his sword.

He sat her up on his lap, arms holding her back firm to his chest, and guided his cock inside. Her head fell back on his shoulder as she slid down on him and Kylo could feel her hot breaths against his ear, so different from the unforgiving air. He looked down at her hard nipples, the way her breasts moved as he drove her up and down on his manhood.

“Will you miss me?” he groaned.

“No.”

He reached around and dragged her cum in devious circles around her clit, “Don’t be a little liar. We don’t lie to each other. You melt and drip all over me every time I sit you on my dick. Isn’t that right, Rey?”

When she did not answer immediately, he drew the circles directly over her clit, pace fast and hard, causing his lover to scream. “Isn’t that _right_ , Rey?”

“ _Yes!_ Oh, fuck, _yes_.”

Her legs shook, unable to maintain pace when he was talking like that into her ear. Kylo could feel her cum streaming down his cock and over his balls. He stilled her thigh with a hand and palmed her cheek until she turned to face him. Some of her own juices transferred to her skin from his fingers. The dark eyes peering back at her bored into the core of her being, deepening her trembling with his strange brand of vulnerability.

Something shifted in the mood. Perceptive, Kylo lowered her onto her back and hooked her ankles over his shoulders.

Rey clawed across his back, trying to pull herself up and closer to him even as he slammed into her pussy. Hipbones jarred together, sweat and harried breaths combining  and the rhythm becoming more and more unhinged. His grunts came faster, yielding eventually to groans that emerged full and guttural from his chest. Eyes glazing over, Rey watched their fire-cast shadows on the side of the tent. She focused on his silhouette, bent over her like a rutting beast. Even the span of his broad back heightened her arousal in addition to the muscles currently roiling beneath her hands as his hips alternated pounding, gyrating, grinding.

“Kylo . . . _Mmm_. I wanna cum, but I . . .”

“Let me hear it, Rey,” one of his hands left her hip to sweep the hair back from her forehead so he could place his own against it. He regressed further, grunting and seething, “Let me see it, let me _feel_ it.”

But then he made his thrusts more shallow. A strained whine rent the stifle of hot air inside the yurt. Kylo chuckled until he saw tears.

“What is it?” his thrusts slowed.

She was having difficulty coming this time and now he was beginning to worry. She had never cried during sex before. Tomorrow they would have to choose. They both sensed it.

Rey’s winced in frustration, and when she opened her eyes, they met his. They burned dark, hazed with lust but focused, “ _Harder._ ”

He obliged. “How does that feel?”

“ _Ah_!”

“Now, Rey . . . that’s no good,” by her head, Kylo’s sweaty palms slipped on the skins and he barely caught himself on his forearms; the previous edge in his voice quivered, swollen lips trembling as he fought to control his panting. But it only fractured his breathing. He was going to lose it. “ _Fucking shit_.”

Rey dug her fingers into his biceps. Her head, she threw back until it bowed a dent into the bedding as she squeezed his cock in a silent bid to get him to fuck her the way she needed it.

When he stopped altogether and rose to change positions, she keened in frustration. Her eyes flew open and, fingers outstretched, she grasped for him, “Don't leave me. Kylo.”

His hand enveloped the entire side of her face. When he cradled her she felt the struggle of his own life play through his fingertips. Calluses grazed her lip. Scar tissue whispered just beyond the stretch of her eyelashes.

“Leave? I’m not going anywhere tonight.” One hand grasping his dick, he cradled her chin in his free palm, and sheathed himself back into her cunt.

Rey did not even realize she had been crying this whole time until his thumb caught against tears. It took a few minutes to swallow the ache in her throat, “When—when you're deep inside me . . . I feel like you’re really here, like you’re part of me.”

He bared his teeth with a snarl. His fingers bore down on her hips, thrusts growing more sporadic, their hip bones jarring together and sweat dripping between them. Rey licked some off his collarbone.

A strangled moan strained into a whimper against her ear, and then he was talking. They were words Rey could not understand, something not of her dialect. But even through the haze of lust she could recognize at least one word. It was a favorite now shared between them. 

“—fuck. _Fuck_.”

“Kylo,” she arched in response, writhing and whimpering, “Kylo, _please_.”

Finally, he got her there. It came suddenly, her back arching, her shriek of euphoria warming his ears as he ground and pounded and and grit his teeth until he finally ruptured with a ragged cry. Rey latched her legs around his waist, clinging tightly, yearning to feel his seed. She relaxed in the warmth and watched with hooded eyes as Kylo rode out his orgasm until the last of her pussy’s spasms faded away. His haphazard thrusts slowed to a grind until he settled down with his face hidden in her neck.

.

.

.

Neither of them were able to find sleep after that.

Finally, several hours before daybreak, Rey could no longer stay in the tent with him there. She tiptoed outside and fled, running in her bare feet up to the same sand dune she had mounted the day she found him. 

Bitterness was already forming and Rey regretted having preserved each memory from their seventy-one days together with such care.

She shivered in the cold, embracing the numbness until the way Kylo made her feel smothered everything else in her thoughts. His warmth and his passion. And just how alive she had felt these past weeks. How he made her crave each sunrise and sunset, giddy like a child for what each day would bring. Despite the maturity of what they did to each other, Rey could not remember ever having known such pure joy.

And not for the first time she wondered where he found it. She knew he had his own unresolved ghosts and marveled at how he had anything to offer her at all. And how could she possibly have anything to offer him? _I am no one. I am nothing._ And yet he shared in her wanting. 

It seemed something greater than chance had guided them to each other, had led her to him, this warrior she veritably tripped over in the desert.

“I don't mean to suggest we can fix each other.” 

She had not even heard him follow her up the dune, but she closed her eyes and listened, listened to the hum of sand streams falling about his feet, the groggy depth of his voice as it dispersed around her in the chilly air.

“I know I’ve asked you to share things I haven’t been able to face myself. And I didn’t mean to say ‘fix’ either. I just . . . at sunrise I’m going. I won't say anything, and it will be up to you whether I walk out of here alone. No matter how I may have made you feel, it’s always been up to you.”

Rey frowned. 

The sentiment reached between them like it always did despite their subtle language barrier. She knew what he meant. Things can be fixed. People are too tragic to be called things.

If they stayed, they would both be trapped by the burdens that hindered her, and she would lose the opportunity to learn and help shoulder his. But did she even want to? Would he let her?

She felt the strange sting of tears and stiffened her chin as she always had. It was out of the question, to turn and risk looking at him, to see whatever expression that alluring face wore. If she did, the part of her that starved for the delectable, the lusty movement of his body against hers, would make the choice for her. Neither of them wanted that, and she knew now that Kylo had always feared that very possibility. He had wanted so badly to forge an emotional bridge with the one he found to be his equal, and their physical tryst had been her excuse to flee from reciprocating.

And now he was leaving, following the trail everyone else had trodden out of her life. 

“Goodbye, Rey.”

.

.

.

She was watching the fire dance behind closed eyelids when he left hours later.

He was so quiet. It was like a breeze had drifted through her home, disturbing nothing upon its departure.

She took fifteen minutes to gather her belongings. It was easy to sneak into the corral and retrieve her old, loyal nag.

When she caught up to Kylo she instantly recognized two things. First, that he must have been traveling at the pace of a limping jackal, and that the horse he was riding belonged to Teedo. 

Served him right anyway. 

Rey pulled up beside the warrior with a haughty smile and tossed their potted plant at his face, “Here. He likes you better.”

He caught it of course, looking absolutely unsurprised. He smiled and gladly tucked the seedling under his arm.

Rey had fallen into pace beside him too easily, as if they had been traveling side by side all their lives. He had yet to even look up.

“Kylo,” she craned her head to the side in an attempt to catch his eyes, “where are we headed first? We need a plan.”

It took him a while to answer and, when he did, his voice swelled with more life and hope than she had ever heard from anyone. “First, I’m getting you out of this forsaken desert,” he turned just then, facing her head-on as the loping gait of Teedo’s horse lifted his hair in the wind. His already mischievous smirk turned stormy with promise, “and then I’m going to fuck you against the first tree we come across.”

Rey gaped. He usually only ever spoke like this at night, when the sun was safely down and he could take her without any of his perceived shame getting between them. The least she could do was greet him halfway, “I . . . look forward to it.”

“Oh, yes?”

Rey watched their shadows stretching far in front of them. The sun was just beginning to rise, letting them ride out the first of its light into the grasslands. “Yes. All of it. And I won’t look back.” 

“ _Good_.”

Good. He had said it in his dialect but part of Rey, the part that had reached boldly out to touch another for the first time, the part that strained to hold his heart to hers, knew what he had said.

She reached out again, “Kylo?”

“Yes?”

“What is your name?”

Though vague, the question could only be interpreted one way between them and it made Kylo swallow. 

He had made a promise, though unspoken, that he would return whatever trust she offered by leaving with him. Every instinct prickled to protect himself, so he focused on her eyes. Surely nothing would be the same ever again. And he did not want it to be. 

His heartbeat thundered in his ears. He counted three of them.

.

.

.

“Ben.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m just a sucker for having two people together in an isolated place, learning from and drowning in each other before finding the courage to face the outside world together.
> 
> I left Kylo’s past open for a reason, but canon knowledge of his character, along with some imagination should suffice just fine in the meantime.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
